


Taste of Home

by mangabreadroll



Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: Gen, I try to write food as best I can, Kid!Umbrella Academy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-15
Updated: 2020-08-15
Packaged: 2021-03-06 05:21:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 685
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25918009
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mangabreadroll/pseuds/mangabreadroll
Summary: It's been a while since Five had a peanut butter-and-marshmallow sandwich.Short fic. Who says a childhood favourite food can't have a (short) origin story?
Comments: 4
Kudos: 40





	Taste of Home

**Author's Note:**

> In which I find reason to give even Five’s favourite sandwiches a backstory.  
> Comments are greatly appreciated!

A healthy breakfast is key to starting the day right, Reginald Hargreeves believes. A controlled diet ensures a sharp mind and a resilient body, which is exactly what the children need.

When they take their places at the table in the morning, the spread is laid out with loaves of whole wheat bread, bowls of ripe raspberries and sour-sweet blueberries, cups of crushed oats and fresh yogurt, a pot of steaming hot porridge.

Number One scoops heapfuls of oatmeal porridge into his bowl, remembering to place a small portion in Reginald’s bowl.

Three takes an equal amount of everything on the table, topping off her dish with a sprinkle of mixed berries.

Five jabs at his slice of bread with his knife.

“What’s the matter, Number Five?” Reginald inquires.

“I’m not hungry,” Five replies.

“You will eat what has been given to you, or nothing at all,” Reginald responds. “Number Four, his share is yours.”

Four looks up from a mountain of yogurt, unsure.

“I don’t like it,” Five says, frowning.

Mom steps forward, concerned. “Shall I prepare more choices on the menu?”

When Reginald doesn’t respond, she bends down next to Five’s seat. “Do you want to choose something else to go with your bread?”

Five stares at his plate, tiny but stick-thin fingers tugging at the folds of his shorts.

Mom returns shortly with an expanded selection of breakfast food: graham crackers, pancakes, jams and syrups.

Five’s eyes light up instantly. He examines the spread, inspects the jar of peanut butter, and starts scooping it out onto his bread. He reaches into the bag of marshmallows and presses a handful of them onto the peanut butter.

Reginald notes this disapprovingly from the other end of the table. “Number Five, I certainly expected more from you than being particular about food.” He scowls. “Don’t expect your frail little body to cope with your abilities if you intend to keep this up.”

One frowns as Five wolfs down his handcrafted sandwich without complaint.

 _Awesome_ , Number Six gasps, as Four tips out a pile of marshmallows onto their shared plate.

*

Five watches the sun as it fades into the darker blue of night. He takes a long, difficult breath, and lets it out. The trees and fields around them are quiet, no longer ringing with gunshots and screams, but alarm bells still buzz under his skin.

“You can come inside.”

Five twists around to see Luther ducking his head out from under the cabin door. “Take a rest.” His oversized jacket is off, his ape muscles fighting to break through from underneath layers of bandages. “We’re not going anywhere until nighttime.”

Five finds the movement of nodding difficult. He mouths a few words before he actually says them. “I’ll… do that.” He takes two steps forward away from the cabin door.

Luther sidesteps and grabs his shoulder. “If you don’t come in and sit down, I’ll put you in a chair myself.”

Five shoves at Luther’s tree trunk of an arm weakly, but doesn’t try again. “Sorry,” he says to the air. He scuffs his shoes against the wooden floorboards. “I just want to point out, we’re not really safe until we jump back.”

“We’re safe for now,” Luther says. He loosens his grip a little, so his hand is resting firmly on Five’s shoulder. “Sissy prepared some food in the back. You can help yourself. Maybe one of those sandwiches.”

There’s a subtle softness in Five’s expression. “I don’t really eat those anymore.” He says it with a note of longing. “I had one when I came back to 2019 because I’d forgotten the taste, but - ” He runs his hand lightly through his hair. “ – that’s all it is now. Something from my childhood I used to enjoy.”

Luther nods with as much thought he can put into it. “Well, take what you need. Anything that’ll keep you from dropping us off one by one like a bread trail again.” He gives Five’s shoulder a squeeze and leaves.

Five stands on the front porch, imagining the taste of peanut butter in his mouth. He goes inside.


End file.
